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Today's topic of conversation is respect. R E S P E C T work out what it means to me, sock it to me baby yeah and so on.

Aretha Franklin had it sussed, but what I'm talking about is that respect that our 'elders' expect to be there automatically just because they are older than us.

Stuff that! I was always taught that respect is something to be earned through actions, words and the way we treat people. And mutual respect, whereby both parties respect each other because they have earned it. This leads to happiness and feeling generally alright.

I moan about this because today, as I stood in the line to get on the bus with Helen I was abruptly pushed aside as two old ladies climbed on in front of me but behind Helen. I had stood back to let them on but they still pushed through like they were determined to get on before me. However, they let Helen on without any problem.

So what's wrong with this picture? This: I was in school uniform, Helen was not. But consider. Helen was clutching her school bag, as was I. Helen is still in full time education, as am I. Helen does not wear uniform, but I do. I guess this is also about prejudice - they pushed past me like I was scum, yet let a non-uniform wearing pupil go without any fuss.

Our school tries to be traditional and prim, and they do this with rules like 'standing up at the start of assembly', 'standing up when a teacher enters the room' and 'standing up when a teacher leaves the room'. This is supposedly in the name of respect... balls! It seems a bit of a power trip to me. But that doesn't mean we disrespect all our teachers. For example, we had this excellent maths teacher for three years running. She taught us well, gave us practical examples and explained things on our level. When she said 'shut up', we shut up. When she said 'do this', we did it. It was mutual respect. If we said 'give us an example', she gave us an example, if we said 'we don't understand', she would make us understand even if it meant her lesson plan went out the window. It was great! Mathematical bliss preveiled and we all did well in our year 9 SATS.

Then we got a new teacher who expected us to automatically respect him and be good. I'm sure you can guess how that turned out. We are still in a bitter struggle with him to be taught properly. No one bats an eyelid when he screams for silence, because none of us respect him. Respect should be earned, it cannot be dealt out like school dinners.

Which brings me back to those two little old ladies. They were there first and I was happy to let them on, but they did not seem happy that I was waiting to get on the bus. I've never seen either of them before, yet they thought I should respect them as they disrespected me while they had no problem with my sister. When we were safely up the stairs, I pointed it out and Helen said she had seen it. She said she had pushed in front of them to get back at all the times that she was metorphorically spat at by nasty old ladies, and I don't know if I can condemn that. But, as someone once said, the young do know everything, the old just won't admit it.

I want to end on a light note... I can think of one thing that's had me smiling since Friday, maybe I'll save that right to the end because it isn't topical or anything. Hmmmm...

Nope, nothing.

And finally, following on from my mad use of capitalisation last week, HE LIKES ME! HE LIKES ME HE LIKES ME HE LIKES ME! Might see him briefly on Friday, I don't know because it all depends on many factors. But I've been boring various people with my starry-eyed happy thoughts since Friday. Maybe next time I'll tell you about the gig, that was really good too... apart from all the sweat. Tatty b-b for now!

 
This was written on Wednesday but something went wrong :s

Hmmm well that was the day that was.

I was supposed to meet people today, but that all went wrong and I ended up wandering the windy streets of Romford. We got to the new hall, the spiritualist church hall, and the lady wasn't there to open the doors for us. And then it started to rain.

I know I don't usually take things like spiritualism very seriously and stuff, but they couldn't have made that place spookier! It's a gorgeous hall, don't get me wrong, but sheesh! The blokes' loos spontaniously flushed, the floorboards creeked like coffin boards and shadowy figures kept passing the windows.

Auntie Charlotte, can you hear me?

I'll take that as a no. But I have finally realised that I'm head-over-heels, arse-over-tit, inside out and totally nuts over someone. He's so cute! But he's a fagend. But be my fagend!

If you are American and don't know what the English general use for the word fag is, I mean cigarette. He smokes basically, but I think I can get over that. And on the unlikely chance that he finds his way here to this site (seriously doubtful but I can try), I LIKE YOU! LOTS! But Limp Bizkit still suck. They would suck less if they got rid of Fred Durst perhaps, or they were less commercial and didn't release cop-out remix albums. That is a cop out. I was actually going to listen anyway, but the headphone got whipped away from me. BUT YOU'RE SO LOVELY! LET ME KNOW YOU! I REALLY LIKE YOU!

Yes, I have just made an immense fool out of myself.

 
This is just a quick note about the following blog: I went out on Saturday, that's when I played the box game and stuff, and I would tell you about it were there not 5 different alibi versions of what happened going around. Tatty byebyes!

 
It's Tuesday, it's raining and it's cold. But I'm in my lovely warm house so I'm sorted!

I just scanned the bag!! I'll put it on now if I can figure out how... Well I know how but I have to get it uploaded first, and I'd have to put it on Helen's site. And Helen is out.

But it's like a deluge out there! I'm waiting for my budgie to be called up for ark duty, it's that bad. Either that or God's wrath has already been extracted against us and we're all going to drown over the next 38 days.

I'm not sure what I'm going to write today, all I've been pondering is how many ways there are to make £1. There's something like 297 ways to make $1, but they have quarters and we have 2 penny pieces. Don't tell me! I'm going to figure it out myself.

But let me tell you the rules of the box game (see Thing of the Day for Saturday 19th October 2002). It is very simple, but can be quite painful if you are not properly warmed up, as I found out. You need an empty cardboard box (preferably a light one), and numerous strange pople with nothing better to do.

There is only one rule to this game: when picking up the box with your teeth, you cannot touch anything other than your feet on the ground. That means no hands, no fingers, no knees, no bums and no noses.

It was my first time playing this game, and I won! You have to pick up the box as described above, and each round you tear about an inch or two off the top of the box, making it smaller and smaller. It got down to an inch and a half above the ground, and Anne couldn't pick it up whereas I could. I picked it up, nearly in the box splits, and promptly fell flat on my arse squealing quietly in pain.

I may never have children!

And it finally dawned on me that I'm interested in meteorology. Food for thought.

 
This one has been a week of technological turbulance. This is being posted at the same time as one a week old.

Plus my site has muffed, very annoying when I'm trying to keep it updated with my wafflings. So many thoughts that I cannot bore you with!

Eeesh, where to begin? I'll tell you that... I went to the St Edward's open evening the other night, and they were so nice! Laura, Jemma and me are going to apply.

So. This week I have mostly been pondering... how we ourselves prove the existance of aliens. The fact that humanity itself exists must tell us something about the universe. That something can actually have life and purpose on an unwelcoming planet (it's cold season here in England, it doesn't usually warm up until May) surely shows that it can happen on any planet where the right gases for a lifeform are found?

I was thinking this in physics today, kinetic energy was doing my head in. That and all the pills I had to take today to a) stop myself from throwing up, b) stop myself from swelling up and going orange and c) make me able to stand up straight despite my uterus trying to eject itself from my reproductive system. But simply the fact that we exist must mean that somewhere out there (no tails of the american or any other kind) other life must exist. They've found organisms at the bottom of dark, murky pits where no light reaches them and all they have for company is slime - sounds a bit like the outside labs - but the point is that they are alive. Primitive, but alive. I don't know if there is intelligent life out there, it stands to my reasoning that there must be, but the point is that there must be something out there. This cannot be it, there must be more.

I take a similar approach to religion. I'm not a religious person. I used to be, but it kind of fizzled out. Basically, there must be more than this. There are people, there are intelligent people, there are 'dumb' animals, there are single-celled things that cannot communicate. But we are not intelligent enough for this world, there must be something greater than this. When I used to make up stories to send Rosie to sleep I would tell her about great gods that knew all and had greater minds than it is possible to imagine. Am I far wrong? I guess we don't find out until we follow the white light.

The tunnel leading to my bright white light would probably have a sign telling me that there were diversions in place and I would have to take the back route, that's the way it usually works for me.

Anyone for waffles?

 
This was last Friday, my computer is dead again.

I feel fulfilled: today I bought 2 packs of candy sticks.

But anyway. This week I've been thinking more about what I want to do yada yada yada. Should I stay or should I go? If I stay, will there be trouble? I'll stop while I'm ahead.

So this week I had my interview with the almighty Mrs. Philips. I went in, I sat down, she said that she would be 'very disappointed' if I left them for another 6th form. Should I be scared by this? Well, I'm not. But I do have reasons for wanting to go.

I have this... thing I guess you would call it. I wake up one morning, knowing that I cannot go on doing something. I woke up once in year 6 and knew I couldn't keep doing their god-awful tests, but because I had to keep on, I went slowly mad. I often do this much less seriously with breakfast cereals, I will wake up unable to eat it that morning. It isn't so much a forbidding feeling as a sense of impending doom; and that is the feeling I'm getting at FB.

The way I described it to Helen was as if I was stuck in a rutt 6' deep, 6' long and about 3' wide with someone standing over me proclaiming "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" throwing soil at me. I need out. Soon.

It is not that I have no friends there, I have loads of friends. After the recent watershed I feel much more comfortable with them, talking about things I knew that the others could never understand. I do not want to lose these friends, but I trapped in a box by what is expected of me from the others around me.

They say that we will have a 'clean slate' if we stay on, but that is in inverted commas not because it is a quote but because I don't quite believe it. Background briefing (and I mean brief): Jenn wanted to drop chemistry, the powers that be said no. She got annoyed, then annoyed the lot of them by being right. Helen's slate was clean except for 'Jennifer' half scratched out in the top corner. There is no clean slate when people have expectations of you. Even now I am expected to do things and do them well. I am expected to do all this without getting stressed.

Screw that.

But why I feel I really need to get out? That newspaper thing. They stuck me in that newspaper to (and I quote from my planner), "publicly acknowledge [my] achievements with pride." I have no recollecion of being asked if this was all right with me, and it most certainly wasn't. I didn't want to be in that newspaper. I have to get out before I start hating them like I hate Crownfields.

I want to please my parents. I need to please my parents. It is almost my duty, and I love them so much. They have to be happy or I feel I have failed. My mum was so proud when I was in the paper that I almost didn't care how much I resented them for doing it. She bought about 10 copies and sent cut-outs to relatives. My dad has a folded-up copy in his wallet that he shows his friends from time to time.

But this is not what I really want. What I want... is not this. I haven't the foggiest what I want, and I will only know I have made the wrong choice after it has been made. I will never know if I made the right choice, there probably isn't one. I just do not want to stay on.

I do want to take English Language, however, but at this rate I will be kicked off the course: I've started about 5 sentences with conjunctions. Not a crime, but still vaguely criminal!

 
This was written last Thursday, by the way.

So, the day approaches. But I'm not going to talk about that.

Oh, no.

I did have a thing to talk about, but I can't remember it now... something deep and meaningful I'm sure, I'll figure it out soon enough...

Whatifs. What if we hadn't done this, what if we had etc. We had our fist lecture on why we should stay on at FB 6th form today, the first of many methinks, and it set me thinking (oh, no!) about crappy decisions in life.

I hate desicions. Passionately. If it can be left alone, it will be. That's probbly why I came to this school in the first place: because it was predecided. It was virtually my destiny by the time I started in year 7. I had more back-up appeals than a disgraced politician if I didn't get in, but I did so there was no problem. But what if? What would I be like if I had gone to Coopers like everyone at school thought I should? Would I have fit the stereotype to a tee?

Background check: Coopers is a comprehensive that so wants to be a grammar school, but they just aren't. They used to have tests to get in and they would ask questions they weren't really supposed to in the interviews. This was only stopped a few years ago so the people taking their GCSE's this year are still in that super-intelligent clique. A lot of people that go to Coopers have an overly self-confident air about them. Not all, I've met plenty of Coopers people and they didn't all have their heads jammed up their backsides, but a significant number did. And continue to. I don't know what makes them this way, but it's how some turn out. I refused to go there because that was not who I wanted to be. The system would have loved me to, but we all know what I think of the system. Or haven't I moaned about that yet?

So I didn't go there. I never even went to the open evening to reaffirm my non-want. But it is not Coopers that I want to talk about.

At school we have finally realised a situation that we would never have dreamt of a few years ago. We have finally parted company. The group has now become about 2 and a half groups due to one argument after another basically (i's not that simple really, but when is it?).

I don't blame anyone, I think it was bound to happen and it all began falling apart not long after it came into existance. But there was a catalyst I think, someone new that made everyone reassess who they were.

I have a feeling that for legal reasons I ought to make up names, but if any of my friends ever find their way to this site then they should know who I'm referring to. There will be nothing inflamatory on here, because that is the sole function of bitching and there is time enough for that in real life. This is not real life, this is electricity.

To cut to the chase, for 3 years we had sat in our slowly expanding group, gathering friends and being generally happy. Then, not long into year 10, 'Judy' came along. Not much of a stretch really, but I can't be sued! Judy was totally different from everyone. She preached a different religion, she knew another world. She virtually spoke her another language to ears eager to hear. Some of the stuff she said I disapproved of but then I am a boring old fart. The point is, she was a breath of fresh air.

I was not her, we were too different and I knew she would never drastically alter what I did. But that is just me, a stubborn killjoy. Others needed this, they needed this release from the rigours of the group. They became interested in different things, different people and different places. Slowly at first, the cracks began to appear. These were barely cracks, perhaps fractures at most. But they were enough, and slowly but surely spread outwards.

Blah blah blah, the group split, her in one faction and me in the other. It's not like we all hate each other passionately, we still talk to them and they still talk to us, but it has kind of become a 'them and us' situation. But my fundamental question about this is this:

Would this have happend anyway if Judy had never come?

After much pondering and an English lesson not doing much, I have decided that it probably would have. I could give you the 'substance reason', but that is long and boring and would probably cause someone to keel over and die of heart failure. But I think that maybe we were all too different to begin with, we were too blinded by youth to see it. No one wants to be a loner, perhaps this is what we were afraid of. I would have sided with the neutral, middlest group in this situation, but this is what I always do, and after recently reassessing my priorities, I decided I didn't want to do this. Why should I ignore most of my friends because a few people can't get on with each other? So screw that, this time I went where I wanted to go, not where logic said I ought to. I can barely relate to some of the people in the group now, but I don't think I'm bothered. I'm happy, I'm liked, I'm considered and I'm doing what I like to do with people who enjoy it as well. Is that so wrong? Am I anywhere near my original point? I think 'no' is the answer to both of those.